


Prompt-a-Fics

by kayteedancer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cap feels, Gen, M/M, Self-Harm, minor inception crossover, not all tags apply for every chapter, read the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5427659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayteedancer/pseuds/kayteedancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some prompt fills in the MCU that I'm prompted over on tumblr.  Make sure you check the tags.  Not all tags apply to every chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream a Little Bigger, Darling (Tony/Steve)

**Prompt:** Steve/Tony, dream a little bigger

Steve knew that the world had changed when he exited the ice. Just looking at Times Square, lit up in neon and HD screens, was enough to remind him of that fact. But sometimes he forgot. Sometimes he would forget that he should be 90 years old by now and that one of his closest friends was a young version of Tony Stark's father. Sometimes he would forget that Peggy Carter, the woman he imagined spending his life with, was a great grandmother of twenty and that her husband had been dead for close to 12 years. Her hair had not been black in over two decades and her skin was waxy and paper-thin. Steve thought he might break her by simply breathing on her, hyper-aware of the years that spanned between them full of _what ifs_ and _what could have beens_.

But he would always eventually remember. Whether it was JARVIS informing him of a meeting, a text on his cell phone, seeing Tony and knowing that Howard's been dead for so many years, or meeting Peggy's great-granddaughter that was a spitting image of his wartime love, Steve knew that even though he wished things could have been different there was no way for him to go back to the time he was supposed to be a part of. So instead of allowing himself to wallow in the possibilities of things that had never come to pass, instead of allowing himself to rage against the injustice of Fate for simply putting him on ice for seventy years and not having the decency to just kill him, he drew.

Steve would draw scenes from his youth, from the Brooklyn he grew up in and not the "hood" it became. He would draw Bucky and Peggy, the Howling Commandoes, Howard Stark, everyone that meant something to him in his life before the ice. But he quickly learned not to show these portraits to anyone. Well, anyone except Tony, as odd as that sounded. All the other Avengers would look at him with pity in their gazes, even the indomitable Natasha who knew more than anyone the type of loss he was experiencing. They would pity him, worry for him, and report to the SHIELD psychologists that he was torturing himself.

But he wasn't.

Steve just didn't know any other way to immortalize and celebrate the people of his life before other than to draw them so he would never forget their faces. And oddly enough, Tony understood that. So Steve would show Tony his drawings, and Tony would be oddly serious through it, asking questions about who the people were to him or where the piece of landscape was located. He even would hold back his tongue at portraits of his father; the man Steve knew a much different one than the man who raised him. And Steve was content with this, with sharing his stories and his life with someone who wouldn't judge him.

And even though he no longer felt nauseous when he talked about his past, even though he let go of all the _what ifs_ and focused on the present day, he was still overwhelmed by the changes, by the modernity and sheer scale of the world he now lived in. So he would hide in Tony's workshop and sketch the skyline as he once knew it from his memory and allow himself to mourn the changes that had happened seemingly overnight but were really 70 years in the making.

One day, Tony walked in with a shiny silver case, not unusual for him, but Steve couldn't help but take notice due to the wide and honest grin spreading across the billionaire's face. Setting the case down with a clatter, Tony seemed to vibrate with energy as he grabbed Steve's hand in his own and started speaking a mile a minute. Steve forced down a blush at the feeling of Tony's rough hands, mechanics' hands, on his and tried in vain to pay attention to what he was saying but still only caught every other word. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know, honestly, because all he heard was 'dream building,' 'architect,' 'sleep,' and 'inception,' of which he didn't have any clue how those words related to each other and to the silver case that Tony was now busy opening up and pulling out IVs.

When Tony moved to insert the IV into Steve, Steve jerked his arm away and curled it against his side, glancing at Tony warily. Tony's eyes softened and his smile shrank until it was just a shadow of his manic grin but a thousand times more sincere.

"Steve, just trust me," the smaller man implored and Steve considered the risks before giving his arm back to Tony. Inserting the IV into Steve's arm and then his own, Tony sat down next to him and then pressed the button in the center of the case.

Steve was on top of Avengers tower. He knew that because there was no view of the Manhattan skyline that quite compared. Except for the fact that there was no skyline to speak of. He felt a nudge on his shoulder and turned his head to see Tony sitting next to him glancing out over the empty view as well.

"Before you ask, I'm not sure why it's empty," the other man said, but turned his gaze to Steve. "But I think that you should fill it in."

Steve waited for Tony to elaborate but the man remained stubbornly silent. Steve sighed and turned back to the empty vista, closing his eyes and imagining the skyline of his youth being constructed before his eyes. A few moments later, Tony let out a soft chuckle and Steve opened his eyes to see that the skyline had been filled in. But just like he had drawn it, the skyline before the ice and not the modern one. Eyes wide and a manic grin lighting his features, Steve sprang up and rushed to the edge, surveying the vista as his heart leapt giddily in his chest.

He felt more than saw Tony slide up next to him, and he definitely felt the rough mechanic's hand that Tony placed on his should. Stretching up to whisper in the taller man's ear, Tony breathed, "Dream bigger." Steve whirled to face the other man and pulled him into a kiss full of excitement and thanks and promises and unresolved feelings. And unbeknownst to either man, the skyline around them morphed and changed to become something bigger and better than before.


	2. What Steve Rogers Knows (Steve-centric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, it was very difficult to feel intelligent when living under the same roof as a billionaire genius engineer, a world-renown scientist in the field of gamma radiation, an honest-to-goodness Norse god, and two master spies-slash-assassins." 
> 
> When Steve knows something about the Super-Soldier Serum that the others don't, he always feels just a tad bit smug. But not this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING WARNING WARNING: This chapter includes graphic depictions of self-harm and of dark thoughts. Please be aware before you read this chapter. The last thing I want is to set back anyone's progress.
> 
> I also don't think this is exactly what the prompter was thinking when they gave me this prompt. It got way darker than I intended. Sorry!

**Prompt:** _Steve Rogers-centric, fingernail scratches on your thighs_

Though people don't generally think of him as such, Steve Rogers is an intelligent man. He has an amazing head for tactics and a great aptitude for planning that is largely unparalleled by anyone that is not an artificial intelligence system, well… mainly just JARVIS. On a non-Captain America level, Steve Rogers also had a discerning eye for detail and a propensity for observation that granted him important insights into humanity and how the non-superhero/villain general public ticked. Unfortunately, it was very difficult to feel intelligent when living under the same roof as a billionaire genius engineer, a world-renown scientist in the field of gamma radiation, an honest-to-goodness Norse god, and two master spies-slash-assassins. So, understandably, Steve was always more than a tad smug when he knew something the others did not, especially when it was something related to himself or to the super-soldier serum.

But in this case, there was no smugness at his knowledge; just a deep-seated feeling of shame and disgust. It took the edge off the bitterness that constricted his throat and made him feel as if the Hulk was slowly crushing his windpipe.

Steve shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of his teammates, feeling all five pairs of eyes brand his skin with white-hot judgment. His temperature started climbing under the heat of their stares and an odd fluttering sensation tickled his breastbone as his system flooded with adrenaline and his heart started beating double-time in his ears. Clearing his throat nervously, acutely aware that Captain America was nowhere in sight and had left Steve Rogers to fend for himself, Steve shuffled awkwardly and mumbled, "Don't worry. I know why my wrist isn't healing as fast as my ribs did. It's fine, okay? Just leave it alone."

Natasha's eyes narrowed suspiciously but she remained silent, just assessing him. Steve tried to meet her eyes to show her that nothing was wrong but quickly looked away, unable to maintain the Black Widow's penetrating gaze. Clint gave him a once over before shrugging, unwilling to pry into the other man's business. Whatever the Captain knew obviously made him uncomfortable, so why force him to tell? Bruce mirrored Steve's awkwardness, pushing his glasses up his nose and half-heartedly tugging at a frayed cuff. Thor looked around obliviously, uncaring of what exactly the answer was as long as Steve knew the reasoning. But Tony? Tony's response was by and far the most volatile of the five.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" the shorter man growled, stepping into Steve's space. Steve's eyes snapped up, locking onto Tony and suddenly he felt his skin itch, too tight and too hot in the shrinking space. "You can't just fucking say things like that and expect us to drop it, Capsicle. We are your teammates, your family, for God's sake; we will always worry!"

Slightly taken aback at the worry and conviction in the engineer's tone, Steve looked away, the itch beneath his skin starting to turn into a wildfire. His fingers twitched with suppressed need as he murmured, "You don't need to worry though, Tony. None of you need to worry." With that, Steve stepped back hurriedly, trying to put some space between him and the shorter man.

"Well, too fucking bad, Boy Scout," Tony snorted, following Steve as he stepped away. "We'll worry anyway. You are too big a part of our lives to not care about. And I for one am not going to turn a blind eye to something that's wrong with you!"

Steve's breathing had gotten heavier throughout Tony's rant and the itching had turned into a burning sensation that needled him like no other. Shoving his hands into his pockets and digging his nails into his legs trying to abate the discomfort he felt, Steve exhaled heavily and glared at Tony, the source of his current dis-ease. "Tony, just leave it alone," he said firmly. "This has nothing to do with you, absolutely nothing, so stop trying to make this about you."

Tony blinked once, twice, silent in the face of Steve's words and admittedly low blow. Tony's mute observation only made everything worse, heightening Steve's discomfort to the point of acute pain. Panting harshly a few times, Steve glanced around the room wildly before turning and sprinting from the room. The walls became a blur of neutral tones and sounds and faint impressions until Steve got to his room. Shoving the door open and slamming it closed behind him, Steve paced agitatedly, scoring raised red marks into the skin of his neck and feeling blood well up beneath his fingernails. The faint pain he caused himself did nothing to alleviate the agony he was enduring.

A whine escaped his throat without his permission as he threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged, trying to drown out the pressing need he felt to rid himself of this aching. Hunching down in the corner and folding himself into a ball, Steve shivered as waves of pain overtook him, sinking him into a sea of agony. Finally, Steve screamed as he sprang up, rifling through his drawers like a man possessed.

"JARVIS!" he yelled, fingers finally closing on a worn leather case, so old that the once black leather had turned a soft brown. "Yes, Captain Rogers?" the AI responded. His fingers twitching on the cover of the case, Steve fought to steady his voice. "I'm instituting Total Override Code Buchanan. No one gets in or out until I give you the secondary code."

After a moment of silence, the AI seemed to sigh heavily before intoning, "Of course, Captain Rogers. Total Override Code engaged." Steve exhaled shakily, his fingers tightening over the leather case in desperation as he tripped over himself in his rush to get to the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, Steve sat down heavily, his knees trembling as he unzipped the case to expose its contents.

Rows upon rows of silver razors glinted up at him, varying in size and sharpness as they went along. Selecting one and lifting it with reverent fingers, a small smile graced his lips as he rolled up his pant legs to expose the expanse of his thighs, silvered with scars that twisted and twined like vines all over his skin. Pressing the blade to his skin, Steve felt the pressure that had been bottled up inside of him, the pain he had been suffering from, lessen almost immediately. As the blade carved deeply into his skin, he felt the anxiety and pain bleed out in time with the blood seeping from his wounds. After his fifth cut on his other leg, he leaned back against the wall with a numb haze swirling in his mind and a pleasant hum suffused beneath his skin. He was at peace, a peace that only the slide of the blade against the skin of his thighs afforded him.

After a while, that pleasant feeling faded away leaving a knot of guilt and shame twisted in the space his heart should be. Sighing heavily and running his hands over his face, Steve stood up cautiously and began cleaning up after himself: first the blades, then the wounds on his legs and neck, then his hands, all scrubbed clean and sanitized like it had almost never happened. Zipping up the case, Steve left the sanctuary of his bathroom. Wincing as his cuts pulled and left a soft haze of protection from his emotions, a smile quirked up Steve's lips as he finished replacing the case in his dresser drawer. Uncaring of anything except that the pain was gone, Steve called up to JARVIS, "Engage Secondary Code Carter. Open everything up."

Immediately, JARVIS responded, "Yes, Captain Rogers. Secondary code engaged." The click of the locks releasing was music to Steve's ears as he turned away to start tidying up his destroyed room. Humming tunelessly under his breath, Steve methodically folded and put away his clothing and righted anything he had knocked over in his haste to find some relief until a cough startled him from his reverie.

Feeling his stomach plummet to his knees, Steve froze and turned around slowly to face the entire Avengers Initiative. Five pairs of eyes stared at him fixedly, unblinking, and Steve felt a bead of sweat drip down the back of his neck. Turning about quickly to run to the relative safety of his bathroom, Steve hissed as his cuts pulled and began bleeding heavier than before staining his pants with bloody claw marks. Trying the bathroom door and finding it locked, Steve cursed and glared at the ceiling knowing that JARVIS was to blame for his failed escape attempt.

Pressing his forehead to the locked door, he shut his eyes and tried to steady his heartbeat. "Is there any way you all could think that those were just aggressive fingernail scratches on my thighs?" he joked half-heartedly, facing his team once more.

Silence weighed heavily on the group for moments that stretched like years in Steve's mind before Tony stepped out of the rest of his team. "I think you already know the answer to that, Cap," Tony said quietly, eyes fixed on the bloody marks marring Steve's khaki pants.

Steve's vision blurred as tears obscured his vision and he felt his lips pull up in a smile as they spilled over his cheeks leaving silver-bright trails down his clammy skin. "No, I didn't think so."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Here are some prompts that I originally posted over on FF that I'm now moving over here. I originally was prompted these over at my tumblr (I'm sleepeatdancedream over there), so feel free to take a look or prompt me something else! Come drop a line!


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